We need a Celine/Miller/Kerouac/Bukowski/type for this time and place. I've chosen myself for the job. What did the man say? No guts no glory? So writing poems from the gut will do. And my star is rising...

Friday, February 04, 2005

bright landscape

In a dream I saw a glimpse of a bright pink and red and maybe purple landscape. It looked like a flash of a place that was glorious. There might have been an ocean of some sort there too. And then, as such things go, it was gone. That place would have been a good place to be.

0 Comments:

<< Home